


Ichor

by NonbinaryHylian (chicagoartnerd)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, BDSM Scene, Choking, Consensual Kink, Cuckolding, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Flatline does ;), Gangbang, M/M, Multi, Pharma has no idea what to do with all of that, Rope Bondage, Spitroasting, Spreader Bars, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tactile Sexual Interfacing, Unrequited Crush, Voyeurism, bdsm club, protoform sex, protomass, the party ambulance likes it rough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-17 10:47:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20619755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicagoartnerd/pseuds/NonbinaryHylian
Summary: Pharma has an annoyingly sweet crush on him no matter how many times he's turned him down.Ratchet wants to be used, destroyed, taken roughly, in all the best ways possible in berth. Seemingly incompatible in their desires, he comes up with a plan to get Pharma to leave him alone about it forever or learn to give him exactly what he needs.Flatline is simply too good at his job.





	Ichor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trashmadame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashmadame/gifts).

> Ohohoho mind the tags y'all. This is all consensual etc but there is definitely a kinky gangbang. Also this fic is called Ichor because in Greek mythology that shit was the blue blood of the Gods. ;)

Pharma had been yelling at him for at least an hour now, maybe longer. That was about how long it would take for him to fix all the internal damage his HUD had registered. They did this almost every week.

Ratchet would go and get himself injured, in a completely enjoyable and consensual way, and Pharma would patch him up while lecturing him about how foolish he was being. He would never let anyone injure him in a way that couldn’t be repaired, he wasn’t that foolish. Or more like he didn’t have that particular kink. He just enjoyed a heavy dose of pain with his pleasure. Pharma couldn’t understand that, that’s where their problem really was. 

Ratchet suspected it was partly because Pharma had a crush on him, had for a long time, since Messatine at least. He wanted to be tender and gentle with him, to merge sparks with Ratchet, not take part in the rough body, slightly taboo among Autobots, interfacing he actually craved. And certainly not dominate him in berth. Pharma would rather kiss him than frag him. Kissing was nice, he did like to kiss bots, especially after they’d had their protomass halfway down his throat choking off his intake. To deal with the level of stress he was under daily he needed a release of equal intensity. War was hell. Getting fisted by bots with massive, warbuild hands, helped. It gave him a different sort of pain to focus on. And it felt really fragging good.

All medics had training with how to deal with the results and consequences of mixing protomass. He had medical grade anti-viral software and the latest bafflers for a damn good reason. Like with most things he had learned at the academy, all the medics had practiced on each other, he’d installed dozens of contraceptives in school. As well as fragged 3/4th of his graduating class. Ratchet had graduated years before Pharma otherwise he might had quashed his infatuation then. Even back in school, before the seemingly endless battles, he knew exactly what he wanted and where to find it. 

Ratchet had always preferred body interfacing to sparkmerging. It filled an ache inside him that wasn’t in his spark. He’d never wanted to examine the origin of that missing piece too closely. He’d managed to take care of himself so far on his own, it wouldn’t matter if the war never ended anyway. 

Both he and Pharma had spent the last several decades working together on the _ Apex One _. It was a medical vessel, a traveling hospital for troops coming in from the frontlines, and it would often travel to neutral stations and trading hubs. He could usually find what he wanted in those places. In the past he had even found it from others on the ship as the crew assignments changed. Not every Autobot liked to take things slowly and softly. Although lately he had been seeking out a certain ex-Decepticon medic for his fun.

He knew he would never get to have the kind of berth life he needed if he courted Pharma like he so desperately wanted him to. But he was getting real slagging tired of him lecturing him. His unearned self righteousness was more than a little grating. He honestly had no idea what he was talking about. Ratchet suspected that Pharma had never even had body sex before with all the wild, inaccurate accusations he was always making about it while fixing him up. 

Unfortunately Pharma was an extremely good medic and one of the only ones Ratchet trusted to patch his array after a wild night out. He could have taken care of some of the crushed components or dented plating injuries himself. But some of the things he’d wrecked were internal and relatively hard to find unless you knew what you were looking for. He didn’t want to suffer a serious injury because he ignored a minor one. Not in his array anyway. Ratchet was just going to have to sit through Pharma’s sanctimonious lecturing every time until he found someone else, or until he thought of a novel solution. Luckily such a solution was immediately presented by Pharma.

“I just don’t understand why you do it. It doesn’t make any sense. A medic of your calibur and station shouldn’t relish wrecking himself in such a way. I’d ask you if I could do a diagnostic on your processor if I thought you’d ever let me. _ Not _ that I think you’re losing it by the way, simply that I’m worried about how this is affecting your mental as well as physical wellbeing.” 

Ratchet rolled his optics to the ceiling and sighed. Pharma pointedly looked away as he tried to fix something in his internal mesh scaffolding. He wasn’t doing a very good job; of hiding how flustered he was to be wrist deep in his thick protomass, not the repair. As always Pharma’s medical work was impeccable. He was just more than a little embarrassed to be inside him in such a way, even in a medical capacity. Ratchet often mused that if he’d had a bit of a different disposition, a little taste for sadism, he would have been even more famous for his strong forged medic hands. But that wasn’t Pharma. 

He arched a brow ridge at him and attempted a light tone even though he was flat on his back, his legs up in stirrups so he had plenty of room to work. “You know I’m just as sane as you are at this point, no one is doing _ well _ right now. I could try and explain it to you, that this is actually beneficial to my mental health, but it might just be easier to show you.”

Pharma froze for a second and when he started to work again his dexterous hands were shaking a little. Ratchet smirked down through his own legs at him and when their blue optics met Pharma’s energon was making his cheeks bright magenta. 

“Ratchet, while I’m deeply flattered, we have a professional relationship to maintain. You are my commanding officer. I repair you like this, not because I wish to take this in sexual direction, but because it is my duty to help everyone who needs it and you are a close personal friend.” His voice came out with more than a little static.

Ratchet rolled his optics and had to fight hard not to laugh. “Pharma; I come to you for repairs because you’re the best medic here who isn’t me. You’re skilled and quick and as much as you love to lecture me you haven’t mentioned what I get up to in my free time to anyone else on the command staff. I know. I’ve asked around. Look, I’m not asking you for a casual frag, or any interfacing at all in fact. I’m just asking if you want to come along with me. You won’t be asked to participate, just sit there and watch what they do to me. I think it’ll give you some much needed perspective.” Pharma’s cooling fans stuttered on at that, he couldn’t stop them, and Ratchet’s smirk became a wide grin. 

He thought about poking at him a little more, Pharma was delightfully fun to tease. That was something they could explore more later on if he did come with him. If he learned his lesson well enough. There was potential in him, maybe not of the sort Ratchet was interested in, but still. Perhaps Flatline would know what to do with Pharma after Ratchet coaxed him into, at the very least, observing their little subculture. 

Although if things did go badly he wanted to be able to work with Pharma still and he knew that if he pushed him too far he would snap. He was too tightly wound, rigid where he should have been flexible. Someday he was going to break and while Ratchet was slightly intrigued by who he would become after that he didn’t want to be the one to pull Pharma apart. Again, maybe there was potential there, but Ratchet wouldn’t be the one to bring it out in him. 

He shrugged and looked away over Pharma’s shoulder at the medbay walls. “I wasn’t planning to go out again so soon but we’re still docked at Trissia Port for another two solar rotations so I can bring you along before we leave. It might take Flatline a week or so to get people together for what I have in mind so you have time to think about it. It’s up to you.”

He looked him in the optics and clenched his protomass invitingly. It rippled around Pharma’s fingers, a tease, pulling them inside him deeper. The other mech gasped out loud and withdrew his fingers as if he had been burned. His blue optics were blown wide as he stared down at Ratchet’s silvery lubricants staining his fingers and ex-vented heavily. When he did finally look back at Ratchet his optics glowed low and dark. “I’ll come with you this time. If only to stop you from completely wrecking your array again.”

Ratchet did bark a laugh at him then. “Oh noooo! You’ll come along and you won’t say a single word about what you see. Or lift even one finger to stop, or engage in, anything you watch happening to me. Those are the rules. If you follow them you might finally understand me a bit better and we can go from there. If not, I’ll never ask you to again. It’s entirely your choice. I’ll send you a comm when I’m ready to leave and we can meet at the loading bay.”

Pharma looked like he was going to argue with him but he bit down on whatever he was going to say and instead looked away from him while he grumbled. “Fine. Everything is fixed up but I would wait a while longer yet for your self repair to smooth itself out. Not that you’ll listen to me.”

Ratchet sat up, snapped his array panel shut manually for the effect of the sound making Pharma jump. When he startled and looked at him accusingly Ratchet winked and chuckled softly before standing and stretching. Everything felt fine and his HUD was giving him optimal read outs, once again Pharma’s care had been impeccable. The other bot was trying hard not to watch him stretch, Ratchet almost felt bad for him. Almost. He was going to enjoy this a little bit more than usual.

Oh sure he was a submissive, mostly, but the idea of torturing Pharma without ever touching him was surprisingly appealing. The up-tight, haughty, self-righteous bot reminded him of the parts of himself he had worked very hard to destroy. He hadn’t succeeded entirely but he wasn’t nearly as high and mighty as Pharma. At least not in the berth. 

If he really did decide to come with him, he would be in for a real treat. Flatline was very good at giving Ratchet exactly what he asked for. That was why he would always seek him out at various port and space station locations. Flatline wasn’t a Decepticon anymore, but as a neutral he tended to be hated by both sides now, which made meeting up difficult. Ratchet certainly didn’t hate him though. Or the wickedly wonderful things he did with his rather large hands and his huge surging flow of protomass. 

And although he suspected some of Flatline’s other “clients” were cons, that surprisingly didn’t bother him much. The war had been going on for far too long and it made it hard to remember why each side was still fighting when so many of them were needlessly dead. 

He knew Pharma wouldn’t like it though so when he sent a comm to Flatline he made sure to mention he was bringing some voyeuristic _ fresh metal _ that was likely to be skittish. He also warned him that if Pharma tried to intervene in any way they had to end the scene immediately no matter...how much everyone was enjoying it. Those were the rules. 

Everything was set up at a private location maintained at the port by Flatline by the time, several weeks later, when he sent a comm to Pharma with just a date and time. His spark was buzzing excitedly in his chest. This was something he had never done before, and he had done almost _ everything _ . At least everything worth doing. He had yet to find something physically dangerous he couldn’t handle or didn’t enjoy on some level. Pharma was about to get an exceedingly thorough demonstration on _ exactly _what he liked. Ratchet hoped this would finally settle things between them. Or at least make him shut up while repairing his busted protomass. 

* * *

Ratchet led him deep into the various warrens of the port town back onto the space station it was attached to. Down to a discrete looking black door that led inward to a small flight of stairs, that lowered them in to large cavernous room. 

A tall red and black mech, whose digital tag identified as a fellow medic named Flatline in his medical HUD, gestured seductively for Ratchet to come towards him. They embraced and Ratchet reached up and brought his split mouth plates down to kiss him deeply. He saw Flatline catch his lower lip in between his lip plates and bite hard enough to draw a bead of energon. It made Ratchet to do a full body shiver and Pharma’s spark throbbed wildly at the sight. 

_ It wasn’t fair. _

That wasn’t the main problem he had with all of this though. He could suffer in silence, pining for him, he had for a million years, but now Ratchet was actively taunting him about it. Putting on this lurid show to rub it in. Showing off exactly what kind of treatment he would never give to Pharma. He wanted, he longed, he coveted him. It was a dangerous sort of infatuation. The kind that slowly ground down a bot’s spark and mind, making them brittle. Pharma had never been particularly flexible but his love for Ratchet was breaking him down, bit my aching bit. 

Flatline’s red optics flashed over to Pharma briefly and he inclined his head towards a black cushion on the floor. It was barely visibly in the dimness beyond the circle of light in the center of the room. He could tell there were other things hidden the massive room, in the retreating darkness, but he was here for what was going on in the light. He supposed that cushion was where he was going to be sitting for this entire...display. Ratchet intended to give him a show and no matter how much it hurt him, Pharma intended to watch all of it. 

He moved slowly over to it on the floor and kneeled. Then he watched Flatline move Ratchet to a platform that hovered on anti-grav thrusters in the middle of the illuminated circle in the center of the room. It wobbled before it stabilized under his weight and then Flatline pulled a long metal rod out of his subspace along with a handful of wound high density cable. All the while Ratchet’s blue optics followed his methodical movements with undisguised hunger. Pharma wanted him to look up at him then but of course Ratchet wasn’t paying any attention to him at all. It wasn’t much different from the medbay in that regard. 

Flatline put his hand on his chest and pushed him down on his back, Ratchet brought his legs up and Flatline’s engine hummed approvingly. He moved the bar up behind Ratchet’s raised ankles and ordered Ratchet to grab on to the bar on either side of his ankles, then he started to carefully bind his ankles to the bar and his wrists to his ankles. 

Ratchet’s legs were spread wide and raised up, bent at the knees exposing his hips to the full view of everyone else in the room. There were other mechs silently slinking into the room, he realized with a sinking feeling in his tanks that it wouldn’t just be the three of them. Ratchet wanted an orgy then. Pharma shivered and physically bit his tongue. 

The spotlight on Ratchet and Flatline in the center of the floor cast all the rest of the encroaching bots into the shadows. They looked like hulking mysterious forms. If he focused on any one of them for too long they sunk back into the inky darkness at the edge of the room. Pharma had a creeping suspicion that they weren’t all neutrals either. The type of mech who would want to participate in something like this didn’t really scream Autobot. But then he and Ratchet were Autobots and they were most definitely here. Ratchet was in fact the main attraction of this whole event, whatever it was going to be. That thought left a sour taste in his mouth. 

With a sickening jolt he realized what he was about to witness. 

He almost got up and fled the space then. Ratchet wanted to completely smash any ideals and illusions Pharma still held about what he did for pleasure. He wanted to make sure he knew any lovingly coupled spark to spark love making would never truly satisfy him. He wanted Pharma to know he wasn’t enough. That he had to have dozens of bots to truly satisfy himself. It made his tanks churn in shame and also some sort of terrifying fascination. He knew what body sex was like, he’d seen the holovids, medical and pornographic alike. This was going to be different. For one it was going to involve Ratchet. His frustrating, sarcastic, gruff, beautiful, skilled, beloved Ratchet. Taken by all these unknown mechs...used. Because he liked it. Pharma’s whole mouth tasted like blood. 

Autobots didn’t like interface like that, most of them considered it too violent, a sort of baser type of desire. To spill your internal mass, your protomatter and all its various fluids, into another was messy. You took someone’s body inside your own, let it delve and mingle and fill you up. It pushed deep inside you as you let it writhe around in there, or you pushed your own into someone else. Pharma couldn’t even imagine what it felt like. Probably a violation. Too much, being vulnerable and raw from how far it stretched your internal mesh. It probably hurt. The first time someone did it often resulted in an injury to their mesh scaffolding as it wasn’t designed to take that much fluid expansion all at once. The mesh could expand over time as it was designed to do so during carriage but not so rapidly as often happened when doing body interfacing. Or at least the type of body sex Ratchet enjoyed.

He’d seen what the aftermath looked like but he’d never done it himself. Ratchet definitely wasn’t one of Autobots who viewed body sex as a lesser form of interface. Pharma had been repairing all sorts of various protoform injuries in him for thousands of years. From how often he engaged in it he had to have enjoyed it, he’d said as much many times in increasingly inappropriate detail. Pharma suspected he also got some sort of gratifying emotional release from it. For Ratchet being taken, dominated, offering himself up to another’s less than tender mercies, seemed to calm his spark. It made Pharma’s lurch in his chest. 

Ratchet had already made it abundantly clear that that reaction was very reason they weren’t compatible. They wanted very different things from interfacing. And from intimate relationships. Ratchet wanted to give up control, to be fragged violently, ripped open. Pharma wanted to protect him, to preserve him, to wrap his own fragile spark around his and sooth its millenia of turmoil. They were at opposite ends, forever at odds. It made his whole frame ache for him.

Flatline swooped down in a swift motion and jerked Ratchet’s head to look up at him. “Offline your optics. Do not turn them on for any reason unless I tell you to. You’re here to be of service, a pretty red and white frag toy for me to share with all these lovely barrel chested bots. You don’t deserve to see what they’re doing to you, only to  _ feel _ it.”

The plating on Ratchet’s whole frame shook as he let out a low moan. Flatline dug his fingers into the back of his neck so hard the metal crumpled under them. “Did I tell you to make any noise?”

Ratchet swallowed hard and shook his head no. Flatline sighed. “I’m not going to gag you, some of them will no doubt want to use your mouth, but you will be punished for that. You’re only allowed to moan or run your engine as you overload, only then. No words. Beautiful interfacing dolls with welcoming arrays don’t talk.”

Ratchet’s vents shuddered as he nodded in the affirmative. He gazed up at Flatline in wonder even though his optics were dark and unseeing. Pharma’s spark clawed inside his chest, what he wouldn’t give for him to look at him like that, just once! Jealousy burned through his lines like magma setting his whole frame on fire. His traitorous array longed for something he’d never experienced from someone he’d never had. 

Flatline moved back and then pushed the platform towards the looming darkness outside the lights. The gathered mechs closed in and Pharma heard the tell-tale sound of several interfacing panels transforming back. He leaned forward despite the disquiet in his spark, he couldn’t run, he had to know all of it. Ratchet was where everyone was looking now, his panel wide open, his silvery protomesh revealed to everyone there watching. He’d seen his array like that, thousands of times. While he was spread before him in the medbay like that not once had he thought of fragging him there. Never. Maybe things would be different if he had. 

Pharma dug his blunt blue fingers into his white thighs so hard they left paint transfers. 

Protoforms came in a variety of colors; from dark cobalt, being nearly black, all the way to a nearly translucent pearlescent shine. He’d never worked on Optimus Prime personally but there was a credible rumor his was pure snow white. Ratchet’s was a beautiful shimmering silver. Perfection. A near textbook forged protomass. Pharma’s own was a sky blue, light and dusky. He rarely saw his own though, he’d seen Ratchet’s far more than his own. 

There was suddenly a flurry of colorful living liquid brushing up against Ratchet’s array and mouth, the different shades of plating on the revealed bots not really matching their released protomasses. They crowded around him, five of them, two at his head and three towards his hips. He was angled so that Pharma could his face the best, part of his array obscured by someone’s big white shoulder pauldrons. Two sparkling blue and gray ribbons of protomass thrust into Ratchet’s mouth. Both bot’s mass at once overwhelmed him and his vents choked around the intrusion before he relaxed his throat and took both. Pharma watched mesmerized as he worked his jaw wider, both bots ground their array faring against Ratchet’s head so hard it audibly scraped with each thrust. The sound of it sent shivers down his spinal struts.

From his vantage point optic level with him Pharma could only see one of the bots spilling themselves into Ratchet’s array and there were three crowding in towards him. The small white and black bot moved the spreader bar, folding his back up and his heels down to dive roughly into him. He took it from both ends as all five bucked and pushed into him. A writhing tableau of bodies with Ratchet in the center being filled so full his throat and stomach bulged out with each undulating roll of their bodies. One of them was even spilling themselves in his aft port. 

Pharma shook visibly at the sight of him. He had repaired that particular port far too often and now he knew exactly why. Something furious opened inside him then. What was the point? Now he knew, he knew too much. Why should he even bother with staying for the rest? 

All the while Flatline circled the gathered bots, watching them with boiling red optics. Occasionally stroking along the shoulder seams or finials of the bots fragging into Ratchet. Sometimes he would lean down and stroke Ratchet’s straining, swollen throat delicately. Or push a heavy hand down the bulging plating on his stomach, stimulating both Ratchet and the foreign protmass within him. Both got him a squirm from the prone medic and a rev of the engines of the bots buried inside Ratchet. Or worst of all, Flatline would sometimes look over at Pharma. A knowing gleam in his red optics. 

He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw started to dislocate while he was still trying to watch. 

It was horrifyingly grotesque, and it was strangely beautiful. Ratchet was obviously blissed out of his mind, being over-filled in ways no one should ever be stuffed. Pharma watched his face with all his concentration. His fingers creaked as they dug into his thighs even harder. One of the bots he could see spilled down Ratchet’s intake and he moaned around it, gasping and choking as he overloaded at the sensation of transfluid running hot down his throat. Crackling charge burst all along his frame and grounded itself in all the bot’s inside him’s protomass. They all called out in different voices and shuddered, some more of them spilling inside him. 

Pharma knew they both had medical grade baffles on their sparks but still he worried for him momentarily. There was just so much mass, globs of foreign CNA flowing into him, it would make his body more prone to carrying. Pharma suddenly felt a different type of jealousy. He wanted to look down and away in hot shame. He shouldn’t want that. He shouldn’t want Ratchet either, but he wanted both somehow. It hurt how badly Pharma wanted to filled nearly to bursting like he was and to be the one to fill him. It didn’t make any sense. 

Flatline’s voice came quietly from his right, startlingly close to his audial. “He told you to watch the whole thing, all the way to the end. That if you did you would understand something vital about him finally.”

Pharma didn’t want to listen to him. He wanted to hate him. But his voice was low, steady, and calming so he listened to him narrate the scene. They both watched several more mechs approach Ratchet and begin to pump themselves into him from both ends, splitting him open around their mass. Ratchet’s own silvery pink transfluid was seeping out of him, pooling on the floating platform and dripping slowly and thickly onto the floor. 

His optics were still offline but he was weeping thin wet tears of solvent. His mouth was open wide and drooling around the dark navy and light gunmetal protomass now spilling down into his throat. He looked happier that Pharma had ever seen him. His face was cracked wide with joy, euphoric, as three new bots roughly hiked up his hips to meet theirs, pounding into him so hard they were pushing the platform across the room.

Pharma’s rarely touched protomesh rippled and clenched inside him in sympathy. He was absolutely not thinking about what it would feel like to be fragged like that. He was...he was not like Ratchet, he didn’t crave pain. 

But then dark realization bloomed in his processor as Ratchet howled through another overload when two more bots spilled inside him their protomass rippling and undulating rapidly. The fluids from their combined joining dripped out of his mouth and array as he sputtered through his climax. The mess pooled on the platform on all sides of him. He couldn’t stand to watch any more of this. He couldn’t stand to see him enjoy this so damn much. That was where his line was. That was why they could never work and Ratchet knew it. Had known it for as long as they had known each other. 

Pharma realized he knew it too. Had figured it out the first time he had to repair Ratchet’s protomesh scaffolding. This bot didn’t want to be gently cherished, treated like an antique breakable glass treasure. He wanted to be shattered, over and over, treated like a delicious rarity only for how much abuse he could take. Ratchet was happy like this. Pharma decidedly wasn’t. 

Flatline crouched down next to Pharma, his massive black hands gripping his knees as he spoke with noticeable interest. “I think you understand now. My bots have indeed had their fill of him and you watched through the whole scene so congratulations, you’ve earned a reward. You can’t have him, he’s told you that many times, though this time was a very special kind of no. So tell me Pharma, is there something else you want that only I can give you?”

His optics jerked to Flatline’s and he watched as the hinge of his mouth plate quirked up wryly in one corner. What did he want? Pharma’s cooling fans were running loudly and his frame was hot, his spark flaring angrily in his chest. He wanted to cry. He wanted to break something. 

His fingers were dug into his thighs and it hurt. But as he thought about it clearly he realized he didn’t want to hurt. He was hurting so much already. He was now nursing a broken spark. Could body sex involve no pain? He didn’t want to be tied up and roughly rutted into and he knew body sex could be intimate, slow, and ultimately pleasurable after the intial discomfort. Even if it wasn’t the same bursting bubble bright sort of happiness as spark sex, your insides were dancing and playing with another’s, it could probably feel good. Especially if it was with someone experienced who knew what they were doing. Pharma knew what he wanted in that moment. He wanted to feel good. 

He ex-vented raggedly as he reached out for Flatline, running his shaking fingers over his jaw. “Can you make it pleasurable for me? I’m tired of hurting, of being hurt. That’s all Ratchet wants in the end, that’s how he’s able to feel, but that’s not what I want.”

Flatline’s red coal-like optics softened as he nodded. “That’s why you’re incompatible in that regard. You’re too similar. He saw all the tender parts of himself he tried to destroy in you. I can make you feel safe and cared for. I can give you pleasure. And I can give you your reward while I finally handing out Ratchet’s punishment.” He raised his voice loud enough so that Ratchet heard that last part. 

With that he kissed Pharma’s fingers with the hinge of his mouth and stood, offering him his hand. He took it and followed him tentatively into the dark past the ring of light. As he had suspected earlier there were other pieces of furniture back there. When they walked farther in dim lights set in the floor hummed to life, casting soft warm shadows on the edges of their plating. Some of the surrounding scenery looked strange and tortuous but where they stopped was a large black berth, the lights around it casting the black draped fabric covers in an almost sepia light. The other mech’s in the echoing, massive, room had either left completely or moved to the far edges. Ratchet was the only one still in the circle of harsh light in the center trussed to the bar and hovering platform, dripping an obscene slurry of other mech’s mixed bodily fluids.

Flatline motioned for Pharma to sit on the berth while he called over his shoulder to Ratchet. “You can online your optics now. I’ll pop your hip joints back into place soon, don’t worry, but now it’s time for your punishment. Turn your infrared on and watch us until we’re done. No looking away, no drifting off to recharge, no dampening your pain receptors. Not like you would want to what with that stinging, tantalizing, ache in your array right now but still those are the rules.”

Then he climbed into the berth with Pharma and sat down with his legs stretched out in front of him. He motioned for Pharma to come sit between them. Ratchet was going to watch the two of them. He was going to watch them have protomass exchanging, first time, body sex. That sent a vicious thrill through him before he remembered. It wasn’t going to be the same as Pharma watching him though. Ratchet wouldn’t feel jealous, like he was drowning in sparksick longing. He might even find it boring, Flatline wasn’t going to hurt him after all and that seemed to be what Ratchet liked to engage in.

Pharma wasn’t sure what his punishment really was. But he supposed that was up to Flatline to figure out. Enough about Ratchet for now. He had agreed to do something for himself for once. His spark was spun rapidly off kilter in his chest as he crawled towards the bigger black and red bot on the berth.

Flatline leaned in so that his mouth plate was almost touching his lips as he spoke in a deep rumble. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop. If you’re too overwhelmed to speak send me an internal comm, here is my personal call line, or tap on me or the berth three times in a row with your two middle fingers. If you’re uncomfortable but don’t want me to stop you can say ‘first warning’ and I will slow down. Despite appearances to the contrary, everything all of us do here consensual, as violent as some of it may seem to you, we all do care. I’m going to start just by touching you. You can talk as much or as little as you like. In fact I’d be pleased to hear you make some noise, go ahead and be loud.”

Pharma swallowed hard. He wasn’t entirely sure if he should do this now. Frag was he really going to have body sex? He had to know though. He needed to know what it felt like. Now his array pulsed with desire at the very thought of being entered. He wanted his internals to be touched with hands, mouths, and someone else’s protomass. 

Flatline had just told him that he would stop any time he wanted. Pharma craved control, he needed mastery over himself and others. He was in control here still it seemed. He hadn’t completely lost control with Flatline, not like with Ratchet. This was what exactly what he had asked for after all.

Pharma leaned onto his broad chest as he pressed forward to kiss him. Flatline didn’t really have lips but the scrape of the two pieces of his jaw over Pharma’s lips made him shiver. Flatline brought his hands up and ran them over his shoulder pauldrons, out to his wings, pulling his closer. Pharma’s vents hitched and he gasped at the feel of his practiced hands on him. 

He was pretty much surrounded by grounders in the Autobot ranks. No one he had ever interfaced with really knew what to do with his long thin wings. Flatline apparently knew exactly how to handle wings. 

His fingers were warm and gentle as they massaged the delicate metal of his ailerons, pinching them in between his fingers and rollering them forward and back. Pharma couldn’t help it, he moaned at the rarely felt sensation as he bit down on line of Flatline’s mouth. Flatline’s strong engine purred as he pulled him flush against him. 

Pharma couldn’t help but notice how big he was then, towering a full head and shoulders over him. It should have been intimidating but instead it made him feel safe, surrounded by his thick arms as he caressed his wings in slow circles. Pharma kissed down his jaw and went for his black neck cables as Flatline murmured praise and encouragement at him. When he bit down on his neck he increased the pressure of his strokes on Pharma’s sensitive wing tips. Both of them shivered. It was good, he felt warm and strutless. Molten heat was still pooling behind his array panel but he could also feel pleasure spreading out from his spark. He could overload just from this kind of touching if they went on doing this for a while. 

Pharma belatedly realized with a jolt that when Flatline had tied Ratchet up at the begining of the scene that was actually the foreplay. The other bots didn’t all just crowd around him and frag him immediately like he had originally though. Ratchet had been getting himself wet and worked up by Flatline trussing him up to the spreader bar. This gentle, exploratory touching was foreplay too. A different sort but he wasn’t complaining.

He clung to Flatline’s chest, his dexterous fingers dug in between his plating to stroke his protomass underneath it. He knew he had clever fingers, he was a forged medic after all, and Flatline seemed to appreciate the ministrations as his protomass rippled under his light and knowing touch. 

Pharma jerked bodily and cried out loud in his arms as Flatline stroked the gap where his wings met his back harder. It didn’t hurt, in fact it felt amazing, he fluttered his wings up and out to give his hands more room to work. He wanted more. He could ask for more.

Pharma scraped his teeth over his neck cables and then mumbled. “More. You can do it harder, use bigger strokes. Just don’t make it hurt.”

Flatline chuckled and ran his hands from the base of his wings, all the way to the tips and squeezed. “Oh? I don’t actually know how hard to go before it will hurt you though. I can tell from your frame’s reaction if something hurts but just on the edge of pain while still being pleasure? That’s much harder to read. It’d be easier if you just tell me.” 

He was right and Pharma was going to tell him so, when he did play with his ailerons harder. All he could manage then was to gasp out. “Yes! Like that, only do it all over!”

Flatline silently complied and he Pharma lost himself in the heady rising charge sensation of their tactile interfacing. This was very good. He felt it then, he was so close to an overload, just from this. 

Flatline seemed to understand that as well because he stopped and withdrew his hands. Pharma whimpered at the loss of sensation and was about to open his mouth to complain when Flatline carefully started to push him to lay back on the berth. Pharma rolled his bright blue optics that almost strobed in the dim room but he took the hint and arranged his wings so he could lay on his back. Not the most comfortable position for a flyer, though it was probably the best position for what they were about to do. 

He suddenly remembered what they were about to do and tensed up. 

Pharma didn’t safeword out even though he was on the edge of panicking. Flatline regarded him seriously, his red optics glowing brighter in the near darkness all around them. He slowly took one of Pharam’s blue legs and hoisted it on top of one of his forearms. With the other hand he stroked the edge of his panel, first in lingering, long, touches and then with short harder strokes. Pharma bucked his hips up towards the pleasurable sensation of it and the tension drained out his frame. He let out a high pitched sigh as he transformed his array panel back. 

Flatline stopped touching him for a frustrating moment as he murmured. “Simply beautiful. You are elegant perfection” 

Pharma was going to tell him to just get on with it, no need to flatter his ego, when he felt those big black fingers dip right into him. He cried out. The feel of them was a little uncomfortable at first but as he adjusted to the digits dipping in and out of him lightly he started to move with them, towards them. It was an odd sensation but it didn’t hurt. He felt full. 

Flatline swirled his fingers deeper through his rippling protomass and he felt himself start to lubricate with transfluid. Pharma moaned as he felt it welling up, warm and heavy, around the edges of his panel now. It was intense, he’d never felt anything like it before. He wanted more. He took him roughly by the wrist and moved Flatline’s hand, encouraging his whole fist to dip inside him. Flatline smiled wickedly and shook off his hand before proceeding to pick up the pace of his fingers dancing inside him. Pharma felt his charge ramping up again and writhed up towards him, wiggling his hips to try and bring his fingers in deeper. He needed...more, what he needed was more!

Flatline chuckled a dark rumbling laugh at his undoubtedly desperate expression. “You’re doing so well with my fingers, are you sure you even want my mass?”

His spark flip flopped in his chest at that. Pit yes he wanted his mass inside him! Now. Pharma didn’t want to be teased anymore. He huffed angrily up at him. “Yes. I said I wanted you to make it feel good, this definitely feels good. But I’m a medic. I know the first exchange of protomass a person experiences can hurt as their frame isn’t used to expanding around the extra mass yet. I’m willing to suffer through it though if it feels anywhere near as good as just your fist.” 

Flatline snorted and withdrew his fingers. “It will sting a little at first, you’ll feel uncomfortable and too full, and then you’ll adjust around it. I’ll stimulate you tactilely through the whole thing if you like. It won’t feel painful unless you or I want it to. You don’t have to like me as a person but you can trust me in this. I will make it feel very nice.” He was smiling darkly down at him as he spoke the last sentence and Pharma’s protomass visibly rippled up between them, reaching out for him. That made Flatline’s grin become absolutely sinful. 

Despite everything Pharma did trust him. He didn’t know Flatline personally, not really, and yet he felt like they somehow understood each other. In this moment, wholly vulnerable like this, he did feel safe with him. Pharma looked at him with determined blue optics and grabbed his hand, bringing it to his lips to lick his own clear transfluid off it. “For now, in this,I trust you. I believe I am in expert hands. That said, I need you to pour yourself out inside of me right now. I now know I will regret it later if I don’t do this with you at least once.” 

Flatline smiled at him and played his fingers over his lips. That look of spark-clenching fondness made Pharma feel even more hot and flustered as Flatline spoke to him. “Only once? I hope to make this good enough for you that you want to do it all the time. Maybe not with me, we can’t all get exactly what we want all the time here, but I’d like to at least leave a positive enough impression with the promise of more to come. If you’d like to let me.” 

He might. 

Pharma would consider it. He nodded magnanimously and then jerked away from his burning red optics to look down as he heard Flatline’s array panel transform away and back with a loud clack. Pharma swallowed audibly as he watched Flatline release his massive cobalt protomass. It hung down heavily and slapped up against his own light blue, almost white in comparison, mass. He yelped loudly at the sensation. It was hot, boiling warmer than his own insides as it started to nudge into him. He tried to spread his legs even wider as Flatline leaned down slowly settling his weight onto him more. 

When his dark blue mass broke the surface tension of his own rippling protoform he went absolutely rigid. Flatline noticed and withdrew it back quickly. He then continued to rub it teasingly up against the surface of Pharma’s while he stroked his free hand up to squeeze his aileron. Hard. Just the right amount of pressure as before. He bucked up into the sensation, his hips coming up off the berth into his arms and Flatline used the movement to drive himself all the way into him. 

Pharma’s vocalizer spat a string of static-laced swears as he felt him start to push in deeper and fill him up. There was so much,. He was massive. Pharma felt like he was drowning again but this time it didn’t sting. 

Flatline curled all the way over him, completely covering him and ground his hips down against his own as he released more mass inside him. Pharma groaned and thrust back up as he wrapped his arms around his neck, drawing him down to kiss the slit of his mouth sloppily. 

Flatline picked up the pace, his rhythmic thrusts pushing more and more of his mass all the way inside him, only to draw it back out torturously slowly with the drag of his hips. It felt...he was so impossibly hot and full. Stretched gloriously around him, grinding up to meet his thrusts that were both the hard scrape of panel on panel and the soft slick slide of protomass. It was incredible. Then Flatline started to ripple and undulate his mass inside him and Pharma actually shrieked and his optics fritzed out with sparks as he flew into a violent overload. Flatline held him close through it, his body was so warm, his engine purred comfortingly as it pressed his full weight down on top of him. They were joined intimately, inside each other and it felt just as incredible as any spark merge he had ever had, more so in some ways. He finally understood. He’d wanted this. This was what he had been longing for all along. This type of bodily connection. But it wasn’t quite enough. Pharma needed something else. 

His own protomass clenched and pulled at Flatline’s as he spoke hoarsely, his vocalizer having shorted out. “More. I need to feel more, even fuller, I know your mass is much bigger than mine. You can give me more.”

Flatline laughed, it was merry and sensual at the same time as he responded. “I do so love fragging medics. We tend to know very specifically what we like and exactly how to get it. Now that you know you're going to be practically insatiable though.”

Pharma felt his faceplate heat up with energon as he huffed. That was a lot of assumptions he was making about him all of a sudden. 

He was going to tell him off when Flatline did something inside him. He ground his hips down, pumping slowly into him, the push of more of his mass entering him like a big thick knot. It stretched him so wide he felt his stomach bulge up, it was exactly what his body had been begging for. Pharma overloaded with a whimper this time and clung to Flatline as he rocked into him, pulling him in deeper. With a shuddering sigh against his shoulder he spilled his light pink transfluid inside of Pharma, he felt it spread out inside him like ink through water. The feel of it all rushed hot and thick into him and he cried out weakly at the unexpected sensation. Flatline nuzzled his face and neck, their arrays making an obscenely wet squelching noise from their combined overloads as he kept moving in him. He was lost in the sensations of it all, calling his name, writhing against him frantically. Flatline kept pumping into him until Pharma climaxed one final time, his optics and vocalizer whiting out with turquoise sparks as he called Flatline’s name. Pharma had to reboot his entire processor and when he came back online Flatline was still smiling down at him adoringly. It was...it was so much more than what he had been expecting. 

After he was sure he was fully awake he carefully started to pull out of him. That part did sting a little bit as he was so overly sensitized now. He must have known that though because he murmured quiet apologies to him until he was all the way out of Pharma. Flatline then grabbed a rag and cleaner from his subspace and began to clean him up just as gently. The care he was giving him was more startling than some of the pleasure of body sex. Pharma didn’t know what to say to him. How to thank him? He wanted to all of a sudden and it was embarrassing. 

He closed his panel and then he reached up for Flatline to pull him back down onto the berth with him. He laughed but joined him without protest, wrapping his frame around his protectively. Flatline held him for a delightfully long while but eventually tried to disentangle himself as Pharma tried to stop him. He wanted to be close afterwards, he was feeling raw and oddly needy. He didn’t want to tell him that though. 

Flatline muttered at him, exasperated. “I have to go untie Ratchet and re-align his hip joints.”

Pharma scoffed and then turned his head around to glare over Flatline’s shoulder at Ratchet who was still watching them with owlish blue optics from the lit circle in the middle of the room. 

He didn’t even try to hide the disdain in his voice as he spoke. “Isn’t this supposed to be his punishment? You can leave for a little while longer can’t you? I want to be held.”

Flatline smiled at him as his optics twinkled mischievously. “Someone has some sadism in him after all. Very well. Seeing as how I don’t want to cause any permanent damage I’ll have to go untie him soon, but I suppose we can bask in the afterglow together a little while longer.”

Pharma beamed at Flatline victoriously and Ratchet looked back at him dismayed now. Served him right. 

Ratchet had gotten his and now that Pharma had as well they were mostly even. Mostly. His spark still ached but now he knew there was something, maybe even someone, who could help ease the desire in his touch starved frame.  _ Dearest Ratchet _ was just going to have to learn to share. 

With that delicious thought he offlined his optics and snuggled up against Flatline’s massive black barrel chest. He felt him stroke his hand down the center of his back in between his wings lovingly, almost like he was petting him. Pharma purred his engine in contentment and let his wings wave gently in pleasure as he dropped into recharge. He’d gotten exactly what he deserved.

* * *

Ratchet’s hips were back in their sockets but he was going to be feeling that creaking pain from them being out for so long for weeks. He grumbled as he practically waddled his way back out of the dungeon. Flatline seemed pleased about the whole situation. Maybe entirely too pleased. Objectively Ratchet knew Pharma was attractive, that Flatline had mentioned to him before he had a taste for fliers. And it wasn’t like Flatline and Ratchet were exclusive or anything. 

Still the thought of Flatline interfacing regularly with Pharma made him feel some sort of anxiety, it made him strangely uneasy. He’d watched them frag on that berth with more interest than he’d originally thought he would have. Ratchet had seen Flatline frag plenty of mechs before after all. But this time it had been sweet, tender, almost shockingly innocent. His spark had felt strange in his chest the whole time watching Flatline slowly make love to Pharma. That was what they were doing...it wasn’t at all like what he did with Flatline. Ratchet didn’t need to love anyone like that. He couldn’t let himself do that, never again. Once was more than enough. So Ratchet didn’t bother to confront Flatline about it. 

He was much too good at reading other bots though. It was what made him such an excellent and devastating dominant. He turned to Ratchet thoughtfully. “Oh come now, you told me over and over how you didn’t want him, how he was bothering you with his little crush all the time. But now that I’ve taken him to berth you’re jealous? “

Ratchet waved a hand at him with a ‘bah’ as he helped him clean up the scene stiffly, all his aching joints complaining at once. “It’s not that. I’m still not interested in him at all like that. I don’t know what it is. I know  _ we’re _ not a couple or anything but I feel, well maybe a tiny bit jealous of him. Of what he got to do with you.”

Flatline nodded and then smirked at him as best he could with his red orange mouth plate as he reached out a hand and stroked it down his cheek to his chin. “Why Ratchet do you want me to take you gently next time, worship your frame as I pour myself into you reverently, whispering sweet praises in your audial the entire time?”

Ratchet grumbled and swatted his hand away. “When have I ever wanted that?”

Flatline shrugged but his optics were still twinkling with knowing mirth at him as he watched Ratchet wake Pharma up. The two of them staggered out of the shadowed storage room, turned dungeon, back towards the port where the  _ Apex One _ was docked. Ratchet wasn’t ready to unpack all of this yet. Pharma didn’t look like he was in any state to either as he was pointedly looking all around the station. Absolutely everywhere except Ratchet even though they were leaning shoulder to shoulder as they stumbled down the empty streets towards the docks. 

Ratchet rolled his optics and covered his uncertainty with bravado. “So what’s the verdict Pharma? Do you get it now?”

Pharma gave him a small sneering smile. “Oh yes, I get it. And I intend to get it much more often now that I know what that part feels like.”

Ratchet saw with sudden clarity what was about to happen. 

Pharma had always tried to be his rival in the medical arena, somewhat unsuccessfully, and now he was going to double down and be his sexual rival as well. Ratchet had a feeling he was going to be actual competition. Great, just slagging great. 

He ran a hand down his face and grumbled before he turned to look at Pharma once more. There was something else between them now too, a shared experience almost like a tether. He’d meant to get rid of him in some regard tonight, or at least push him father away, instead they were now bound all the tighter together. That wasn’t what he’d been trying to achieve at all but here they all were. He might as well make the most out of it. 

Ratchet kept his tone conversational. “Well, Flatline’s tastes are varied, I’m sure even a talented dom like him needs a good boring body frag every now and then. I guess he knows who to call for that now that he’s met you.”

Pharma’s blue optics flashed dangerously at him as he opened his mouth to begin a heated, angry lecture about interfacing and Ratchet’s nervousness melted away. This he was familiar with. As annoying as he usually found it this was a comforting dance he knew. They both bickered all the way back to the ship. Ratchet hurt all over again and Pharma was going to complain about fixing him up just like he used to do before now. It was comforting, almost endearing at the moment, instead of tedious like it all had been. Ratchet sighed in resignation. 

At least he could work with this. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna be writing more protomass sex because I love it okay...I am robofucker and a monsterfucker. Transformers are just Venom piloting a Gundam! XD *sweats* Now you all know my kinks...
> 
> Also Flatline is hot as hell and this is the first time I've written a BDSM club scene which is fun! It's always fun to write new things!! <3
> 
> Hope you enjoy this @ voyahoraSD I tried to do naughty temptress Ratty justice.


End file.
